


red on your tongue

by lilhawkeye3



Series: After Dark [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: AFAB!reader, Caring, Communication, F/M, Happy Ending, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Restraints, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Voice Kink, safe word, slight degradation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 10:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30053742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilhawkeye3/pseuds/lilhawkeye3
Summary: You and Boba have an agreed upon safe word for a reason. What happens when you finally use it? [Happy ending]
Relationships: Boba Fett/Reader
Series: After Dark [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199132
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	red on your tongue

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my "After Dark" series, which focuses on dark/uncomfortable themes in relation to sex. 
> 
> Prompt: using a safe word with Boba. Instead of the normal saying “no i’m not hurt, I can keep going,” the Reader actually is hurt.
> 
> Warnings: afab!Reader, rough sex, restraining position, light degredation, safe word, slight panic attack, caring for injuries.

He has you pressed against the mattress, face pressed into the pillows and wrists held behind your back by him. You’re pressed flat on your knees, Boba flush against your back as he fucks into you devastatingly. Your mind is hazy, between the pleasure and pain he’s stoked in you and the sharp edge to the words he’s growling in your ear.

“Got nothing to say, little one?” He mocks. “Is my cock too much for you to handle?” He punctuates it with a nip to your shoulder. “Look at you, gone brainless just after being fucked a bit. Not sure if I should let you cum.”

You gasp and let out a high whine as his words register. “No, no please, Iet me come, I’ve been good for you!” You were already marked with his previous release and yours, but he hadn’t let you come after that initial time. He’s been coaxing you towards a further edge that you couldn’t see in sight.

His grip tightens on your wrists as his hips snap against yours again, his cock striking deep within you. You cry out as his teeth sink into the base of your neck, his tongue laving over your skin after he’s certain to have left a mark. It sends even more feedback sparking up your nerves and into your brain, adding to the fog that’s taken ahold of you.

“Oh, now you’re crying to cum?  _ Pathetic _ ,” he hisses. “So needy. My little cockslut,” he growls. “No, I think I’ll let you sit here and take it.” 

His hands hike your wrists up further, pinning you helplessly under his weight and against the bedsheets. His hips snap against your ass, still raw from his earlier attention to it, and you can’t help but hyperfocus on the feel of his thick cock splitting you apart, how the angle has him just missing that sweet spot within you. You feel a wet spot growing beneath your cheek where your face is pressed into the bed by Boba’s fingers laced in your hair, and realize that tears have begun steadily falling from your eyes. 

The ferocity of his thrusts, the stinging marks left by his teeth, the tight hold on your hair, the strain in your arms as they’re held behind your back, the stress on your body as he keeps fucking you with no climax in sight– it  _ hurts _ .

It all  _ hurts _ .

A weak sob breaks free from your lips, something jagged and heart wrenching, not the type of cries that usually fill your quarters. You can feel his hand shift to turn your head to the side so he can see your expression clearly as he pauses, midway sheathed in you. 

“Color?” He asks, voice gravelly.

Your eyebrows furrow as your addled mind tries to grasp at his question. You’re still sensitive to every sensation muddling your mind, and the way that you core is fluttering almost painful around his cock.

“ _ Cyar’ika _ ,” he says, a bit firmer this time. It has you blinking dazedly as you try and focus on his piercing stare. “Color?”

“Color?”

_ Oh _ . 

You try and shake your head, forgetting that he still has control over your motion and wincing when you pull against his fingers. It hurts, it hurts  _ so much _ , but maybe if you don’t let it show, he can still enjoy himself…

Your train of thought is brought to a halt as Boba’s hand moves from the back of your head to rest under your chin and keep your gaze on him. He says your name, several times in fact, until he can see you rejoin him in the present. “What’s your color?”

You open your mouth to answer, wanting to reassure him, but– 

But you can’t lie to Boba. You can lie to yourself any day of the week, but never to him. 

Your bottom lip trembles under the comforting brush of his thumb as tears well in your eyes once more. “Red. Red, Boba– it hurts,” you whimper. “It  _ hurts _ .”

His presence leaves you so quickly that it has your head reeling. You try and push yourself up on your knees to see where he’s gone, but after being in the curled up position for so long, pain flares from your joints and you cry out, curling back up and waiting for it to stop.

When you feel a warm hand gently splay across your lower back, you can’t help but flinch. To have been so overwhelmed and then deprived of it all– yes, you’re still in pain, but now in more than one way.

“Little one,” Boba’s cautious tone has you shuddering in response. “I’m going to lift you up now, okay?” He pauses to see if you’ll respond, but you’re silent. “The shower should be warm by now, and the heat will… help if you’re in pain.” The choked edge to his words sends a blaster shot through your heart, and you can’t help but feel it’s your fault he sounds so wounded. The least you can do is go along with it.

“Okay,” you agree quietly. You lay limp as he first turns you on to your back to unbend your knees before scooping you up. He cradles your trembling body against his bare chest, and you find yourself pressing your ear above his heart like it’s second nature. An exhausted sigh leaves you, and you’d curl up on yourself now if you could, but Boba is carrying you towards the sound of running water and into the fresher before you know it.

“Think you can stand on your own?” He asks, chin ducking so he can better look at you.

You hide your face against his warm skin, shoulders and wrists too sore to clutch at him. “Stay,” you plead. 

“I’ve got you,” he promises. He nudges the door open wider with his foot and steps in and under the steamy spray of water. With the way he’s standing, he takes the brunt of the water while only holding the bottom of your legs so they get wet. “Too hot?”

“No, s’nice,” you mumble. He turns to let the water fully hit you, and you moan gratefully as the wet heat washes over you, soothing any inflamed spots.

Boba holds you silently as some of the pain and tension leaks from your frame, the constant caresses of his thumbs stroking where he holds you acting as the only things to keep you from drifting off. The pain makes you want to hide, to curl up in some dark corner and let the agony fade until you can function normally again. Here, you are being cared for and watched over. Yet, guilt still drags you down because you haven’t brought him pleasure tonight, and now he is stuck tending to you. You know you shouldn’t feel this way, and know Boba will be upset if he knows that’s what’s on your mind, but the stormcloud still lingers over you as his offering sends your pain down the shower drain.

“Can you look at me,  _ cyar’ika _ ?” 

You like that name. It brings with it a blanket of security and comfort, as it’s untainted by any of your amorous activities.  _ Cyar’ika  _ is sacred on Boba’s tongue, only used in the softest of situations. You would never deny him when he calls you his ‘little sweetheart,’ not even now. The relief is clear in his expression when you finally pry your eyes open and tilt your head up to gaze at him. There’s a concerned frown creasing his face; if only you had more energy, you would lift your hands to brush his worries away.

“That’s it. Can you tell me where it still hurts?”

Your eyelids slide shut as you try and focus on your frayed nerves. Your wrists and shoulders still sting with every slight movement, and you can already feel the bruises forming on your ass and inner thighs. Your pussy aches, and you know you won’t be able to be touched there for quite a while. 

And then there’s your head. It’s not a physical pain, but that emotional weight that’s clouding you. It hurts just as much as the rest of you, but perhaps it’s worse, because this isn’t something so easily healed.

“Shoulders, wrists. A– all down below,” you summarize. “Heart.”

_ “Cyar’ika…”  _ Boba murmurs. “Want to get out of the shower yet?”

“Yes, please,” you whisper.

He repositions you briefly to reach over and turn off the water, and then he’s leading you back into your room. He sets you down on your feet at the end of the bed and tries to help you sit, but you’re stubborn. You’re strong, so you stand despite your shaking legs. Boba’s lips quirk up slightly as he wraps a fluffy towel around you and gently pats you dry.

“Do you want to sleep here, or would…” He hesitates, gaze not fully landing on you when he continues. “Would you rather go to another room?”

You can hear the unspoken  _ ‘without me’ _ in his question.

You reach towards him, palm raised in offer with your words. “Hold me?”

Boba’s hand envelopes yours as he lifts it to his mouth and presses a kiss against your skin. He isn’t one to show his affection through words, but rather little gestures like this. It’s more than enough, and the smile that crosses your face is like the twin suns breaking out from behind a dust cloud.

He lifts you easily again, but this time so you can wrap your legs around his waist while he walks to the side of the bed and pulls the sheets back. You only let go of him because you know he’ll be joining you beneath the sheets in a moment after he sets you down carefully, not wanting to jostle you. He surprises you by leaving the bedside though and disappearing back into the fresher, where you could hear him rummaging around for something. He returns with a nondescript jar, but you know exactly what it contains after he asks you to lay on your stomach and begins to rub the first dollop into the sore curve of your ass: bacta cream.

He works quietly and methodically, only speaking up to check in with you on the pain levels of each area he moves to. Your eyes flutter shut with a content hum when he rubs his bacta-covered finger along your sore pussy, the immediate cooling feeling relaxing you further into the mattress. The soft kiss against the inside of your thighs when he finally pulls away is a nice surprise.

You reluctantly pull your face out of the soft pillows when you feel the bed dip next to you. The lights are still on and the jar is still in his hands, the reason why evident when he speaks up. 

“Shoulders and wrists? “

You smile and nod sleepily in consent. It’s rare to see Boba act this way, mostly because you’re the most protected being in his palace, and no one had been willing to cross Boba Fett even before he took the throne. You wish you could stay awake to watch him finish, but between the physical and emotional toll on your body, your energy reserves are finally tapped out. You fall asleep to the soothing feeling of Boba’s calloused fingers massaging you, but you could swear that you feel the soft brush of his lips against your forehead before you completely succumb to sleep.

* * *

You come to a half-waking stage hours later, where the room is dark and you’re secure in Boba’s arms, held securely to his chest. The firm weight of his chin on top of your head pushes down slightly as he rumbles, “go to sleep,  _ cyar’ika _ . You’re safe.”

You are safe with Boba. Always have been, always will be. It’s a reassuring thought that keeps you warm as you fall back asleep beside him.


End file.
